


the night before.

by fuckingkinney



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:50:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingkinney/pseuds/fuckingkinney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Then don’t.”</p>
<p>As if it were that easy, as it were that damn <i>simple.</i> And Mickey wanted to yell that at him, scream it at him then throttle it into his brain. But instead he nodded again, sniffing and wiping at his face like a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night before.

**Author's Note:**

> from the tumblr drabble message things~  
> request was: mickey/ian, break me with a splash of drink me. (angst & drinking)

It took too long for Mickey to see Ian after he’d assaulted him, miserable with himself and angry with what he’d done. He couldn’t stop himself and he just—he needed to get Ian away from him, away from the Milkovich family altogether. Even if it meant that he himself had to marry a woman, a prostitute that may have not even been pregnant with his child? If it meant Ian didn’t get killed because of him, then he didn’t care. 

He’d do it, he had to do it. Terry would kill both of them and wouldn’t even blink over the fact because they were faggots—Ian was a faggot. He, he.. He didn’t even know what he was. He liked it, too much to stop, what did that make him? Gay? A faggot too? Because he couldn’t, Mickey couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be out and honest like Ian could be around most people because the thought alone made his stomach churn and Terry’s voice boom in his head about God and how faggots burnt in hell, how they were disgusting and all needed to be killed off. 

Coming from the man that had his own son raped and enjoyed watching it.

The thoughts should have been enough to keep him away after he left Ian outside the abandoned warehouse, but it wasn’t. He still crawled there, pathetic and needy the night before he was meant to get married to the woman he didn’t even know how to pronounce the name of. He couldn’t do it, he needed—He needed this, he needed.. He needed Ian.   
And whether it was his own mind or the vodka talking, Mickey didn’t care. Wouldn’t ever care. 

He just needed him to know, for him to always know because he was being honest, brutally honest and for once, someone needed to know what he really thought. Even if the thoughts could get him killed within an instant.

That was why he was outside the Gallagher house, clawing at the door with a half empty bottle of something that was too weak in his hand. His forehead pressed against the door, eyes wet and insides burning up with the intensity in him.

It took too long for someone to answer to his pathetic noises and of course it had to be fucking Ian. Not anyone else, not anyone else that he could pretend he’d knocked on the wrong door infront of. And the redhead stared at him and Mickey flinched, back of his hand dragging over his mouth as he stared up at him blankly, the sudden will of words dying on his tongue.

He was covered in bruises, too many for it to be normal. Mickey had done that. He was the reason Ian’s right eye was swelled shut, why his lips looked like they hurt to even more let alone do anything else. He was the reason for that and the thought alone caused him to choke out a wounded noise that surprised both of them.

“I’m gay.”

And the words were out, Mickey’s mouth moving without his own approval and they caused him to flinch, recoiling away from Ian as he simply stared at him. He was—He was meant to say something, not just stare at him. 

“I’m fucking gay and it’s all your fault! You ginger faggot, you done this to me!”

And Mickey didn’t care how ridiculous his words sounded, how they got louder with each one he spoke and he watched as Ian shook his head, snatching the alcohol from him.

“You were gay before me, Mickey, you fucking know you were as well.” He grit out, voice catching him off guard with how hard it sounded. Too broken, too much for him to deal   
with. 

So instead of arguing, Mickey nodded silently, words dying out again. Anger gone for once in his life because now? Now he just didn’t know what to do. He needed him to know he was sorry, that he wouldn’t do that. Not again. Never--- But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t promise that when Ian was done with him.

“I don’t want to marry her.” He choked when Ian took a swig of the liquid in his hands, leaning against the doorframe and staring down at him with a mixture of emotions that Mickey didn’t want to label.

“Then don’t.”

As if it were that easy, as it were that damn _simple._ And Mickey wanted to yell that at him, scream it at him then throttle it into his brain. But instead he nodded again, sniffing and wiping at his face like a child. 

They stood there like that, both of them silent as Ian finished the alcohol. Then the redhead finally pulled away, walking back inside. 

“If you’re coming, hurry the fuck up before you waste the heat and if—If you’re going then make sure you shut the damn door behind you.”

Mickey stared after him, face twisted into a grimace before he complied anyway, toeing his shoes off and pushing the front door closed behind him and following Ian up the stairs like a lovesick teenager.

Because Mickey Milkovich needed him. Needed the fire in his life that was Ian Gallagher, even if it was just for a few hours. Even if it did kill him in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is love ok


End file.
